


we can live forever

by phanetixs



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, contemplations about buying a house, way more introspective than was necessary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 05:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8877922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phanetixs/pseuds/phanetixs
Summary: based off this great tweet:
[Phil: You gave me the best orgasm of my life. I'm buying you a house.] 
Or, rather, the run-up to it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> shout-out to @txtsfromphan on twitter for the hilarious tweets and unwittingly providing me with some inspiration :) this is essentially 2016!Phil a.k.a. besotted idiot Phil, so, I hope I've done the acute domesticity justice. 
> 
> (yes, the title is 1D, sue me.)

 

It’s not that Phil hasn’t thought about it. He has; more than anything else in the past few years. What he didn’t bank on was exclaiming it in the throes of an early-morning romp, just as he reached for Dan’s dick under the covers. 

 

-

 

Deciding to buy someone an entire two-thousand square feet house- with a hypothetical kids room and a hypothetical kennel for your hypothetical dog- is a major decision. It involves splitting assets and meetings with accountants and avidly looking for plots of land with a nice view, because that’s what the both of you want. Eventually. Hypothetically. It’s a lot of work. 

For Phil Lester, he settles on the idea at age 22, fresh out of university; has a semi-job on a weird video platform (legal videos, he promises his Mum when she sees him filming) and is also head-over-heels in love with a boy he met on said video platform. Overall, life could be much much worse. 

It hits him, when Dan visits his apartment (it would be _theirs_ in a few months) for the first time, exclaims, _this is spacey, Phil;_ that Phil thinks he’d want to buy him a mansion one day. Anything to watch his eyes light up just as it did walking into Phil’s cupboard-sized apartment opposite the Manchester Penitentiary. He stores that piece of information in the section of his brain dedicated to his boy, lunges at Dan from behind and sways to the beat an rhythm of possibilities in the future; now with Dan appearing in every single one. 

_Later_ , Phil thinks.

 

-

 

Later comes _way_ later, as it turns out. They go through another house- well, a flat, more specifically- East of London town; seven-hundred square feet and three storeys high. They buy it off an adrenaline rush, the bustling city a bit intoxicating and the traffic so loud it made everything seem bigger and better. At the time, this is also all they can afford.

Objectively, the flat is _small_ but definitely big enough to occupy their family of two and the presence of two bedrooms raises no more speculation than necessary. It is enough for the two of them, homely enough for them to touch base after months of travelling; Britain then America, soon, Australia and Europe. Early on they decide to litter the house with their favourite things; plushies and stickers on every available surface and bargain-bought sofas with spine creases. Tables with coloured chairs and dying houseplants and Phil coming home to Dan watering them because, _Poe deserves a better dad than you._

They buy more things over the course of five years, clutter the small flat with little declarations of love for each other; with awards that have both their names on them; with surprise gifts and kisses and intangible feelings that cannot be separated even if they tried. The house is their galaxy, where they live in orbit as easily as they did back in Manchester- though, the comfortability is up by a _trillion_ , according to Dan. Phil agrees, even as he thinks that they could be _more_ comfortable someday. That their house of two cannot grow as fast their affection does and it’ll reach the point where one day soon, they’ll find Phil’s sock pile in between the dishes in the sink. 

Still, moving is a _hassle_ and Dan seems content enough for the time being (bar his woeful attempts to get a hashtag trending) in their little home with their big things and bigger hearts. And Phil does what Dan wants, of course. 

Plans are for when he reaches 30, he promises.

 

-

 

The shebang is a little short-lived because just as fast as he makes the pledge to himself, he is suddenly two months from turning the big _three-zero_ and him and his brother are on a train to Brighton for a cousin’s nuptials. It’s a two-hour train ride; from London to Brighton, and there’s only so much you can talk to your sibling about after a year of touring together. Predictably, conversation lapses into an amicable silence. 

He’s peacefully staring out the window about an hour and a half in when his eyes zone onto a vacant plot of land on a bluff in the distance. It overlooks the sea below and the setting Sun casts a pastel glow on the area surrounding it. There’s enough quiet in the carriage for Phil to concoct a vision of their kids playing on the beach, him and Dan taking slow walks back to their new home; two times bigger with more inhabited bedrooms and a giant kitchen. Phil hoisting his daughter up on his shoulders as they play Muggle Quidditch in their back garden. 

Dan might be content, but Phil isn’t; not quite. Not yet.

The train whizzes past, so does the imaginary picture in his head, but Phil is left with a slow warmth rising from the pits of his belly and he hears the call for arrival at Brighton Station.

 

-

 

Seven years after their first meet and theoretically, if Phil were to buy a house for the both of them, he definitely could. Afford it, he means. They’re _monetarily secure_ \- if he were to take their manager’s words at face value- but that’s not the point. He wants it to mean something _beyond_ a display of wealth; he wants his affection bared wholly on his wrists as he twists the doorknob to their new home; he wants Dan in his arms as he carries him across the threshold.

He wants the timing to be right. _Not now,_ he thinks, with their brand obligations having _just_ ended and paychecks banked into their accounts. Not with them thinking about rebranding their personas in the coming year; would that mean more or less mentions of Phil in Dan’s videos? Would Dan still want the soft nudges and undercurrent of fondness in their online banter? These questions rattle around outside the church in Brighton where Phil stands, where he holds his phone tightly in his palm as he watches the bride and groom gleefully make their way to their car. It’s just, they haven’t spoken about any of this, and-

_Later_ isn’t an option anymore, is it. 

 

-

 

It’s only weeks later, in their London flat; Dan softly snoring beneath him and light rays filtering through the blinds and colouring his skin in the most dazzling way possible that Phil thinks, more seriously, _I want to buy you a house for our hypothetical kids and hypothetical shibe and to spare our current neighbours the discomfort of listening to us fuck, their complaints have been piling up._ The flurry of words cloud his brain as his left hand sweeps Dan’s curls off his forehead and his eyes blink open.

The next few moments are consumed with the overall _feeling_ of Dan dimpling cheekily, his eyes wider as he trails his palm over the bulge under Phil’s boxers. The feeling of Phil wondering what this would feel like in a bigger bed, with thicker walls and a nice sight of the sea outside their window. If Dan would hollow his cheeks the same way, and run his tongue on his shaft with the bare hint of teeth. If they would have to finish quicker because the kids would be up soon.

Maybe that’s why he comes earlier than expected; shuddering in its intensity. And when he tries to return the favour, all that happens is: “I want to buy you a house.” 

They both stop, in varying levels of shock, and he thinks he’s got it all wrong when Dan unfurls his fingers from where it’s resting on Phil’s waist and his breath hitches for a reason other than Phil’s hand, stationary, on his left thigh. Phil tries to gauge a reaction, looks him evenly, a hint of hesitation in the eyes. The birds outside tweet impatiently.

He doesn’t regret asking, not one bit, (though he maybe regrets doing it whilst riding the aftershocks of a great orgasm) because for once, he knows _exactly_ what he wants in life; predisposition for indecisiveness be damned. 

Dan doesn’t pull back, surprisingly enough; he engages in Phil’s gaze, looking so intently like he’s maybe trying to figure out if Phil just blurted it out in the haste of a morning fuck, if he’s _shitting_ him completely. And Phil’s _not,_ he wants to tell him. _Never_. 

Slowly, Dan breaks out into a grin, face-splitting, and he pulls Phil into a massive hug, snuffling lightly in his ear.

“Yes, _yes_ ,” is all Dan says before Phil summarily ruins the moment with his boner making a defiant comeback. But he guesses that’s alright too. Good timing _never_ comes around, you just make the best out of the opportunities you have. 

(That evening, Dan would tell him, “You didn't have to look so worried, a house is a home to me only if _you’re_ in it.” Phil smiles when he recognises the look on Dan’s face, similar to his awe in Manchester all those years ago. “And it's about time, to be honest, your head is almost breaking out of this flat, Mr- Creator-of-The-Year.” Which alternatively would mean: _I love you, you giant sap. Thank you for everything._ )

And _later_ can kiss his ass because now, the _immediate future_ sure sounds a whole lot more appealing.

**Author's Note:**

> this is where i tell you that this lame oneshot was a 'sorry fic' for lamentably not updating my football AU this week. i can't promise a strict schedule as of now but the new chapter should come before Christmas, hopefully!
> 
> feedback is great here or at phanetixs.tumblr.com :)


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